


truly, madly, deeply

by filmkid666



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fanfiction, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Grinding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Masturbation, Up All Night Tour, basically harry and louis reading fanfic and realising things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 14:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18812587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filmkid666/pseuds/filmkid666
Summary: “Have you?” Louis asks. “Kissed a bloke, I mean.”orlouis and harry decide to read a fanfic.





	truly, madly, deeply

**Author's Note:**

> hello :D this is my first fic on this site and i'm pretty excited about it!  
> it's a bit rough but any constructive criticism or any comments at all are greatly appreciated x  
> i'm really sorry if any part of this is confusing skskksdjd fanfic-ception is harder than it looks
> 
> [set in 2012, uan tour]

Harry’s mum used to tell him his eyes would go square if he sat too close to the TV.

He ponders this now as he scrolls through Twitter on his laptop, eyes having been glued to the screen for the past half hour. He’s splayed out on the couch, the rumbling of the bus soothing him into a sleepy, blissful feeling. The post-show adrenaline was already long gone. He loves stalking fan accounts and reading the mind-blowing numbers of supportive tweets he and the boys get; hence why late-night-twitter-searches have sort of become something of a routine.

The opening of the sliding door interrupts his seemingly endless scroll. Harry looks up from his laptop with a syrupy turn of his head, eyes meeting with his favourite shade of blue. Harry suddenly hears his own heartbeat.

“Can’t sleep, Curly?” Louis steps into the room, the door sliding to a close behind him. His warm smile blooms heat in Harry’s chest.

“Not a chance,” is all he says, because Louis knows. Louis knows Harry’s addicted to stalking every tweet, comment or post pertaining in the slightest to himself or One Direction. Hate or encouragement. Louis knows.

The older boy is beside Harry in an instant, Harry shifting his position so he can cuddle up beside him. Harry takes note of their knees touching. 

Neither of the two speak much, aside from the odd remark or wisecrack at a particularly burning tweet. They’re perfectly fine relishing in the sweetness of each other’s company. Harry’s pinkie finger links and untwines Louis’ own, a habit he doesn’t much care to grow out of anytime soon, and he does his best to soak in as much of Louis as he’ll allow.

“Larry Stylinson,” Louis mutters lightheartedly, humour in his voice as Harry scrolls through a set of tweets that appear to be freaking out over a recent interview. Dozens of pictures are linked, screenshots of the video in all forms. Harry feels himself smile at a particular picture, a low-quality shot of Louis with a hand in Harry’s curls. He likes to bring up Harry’s hair any chance he can. Another picture has Harry blushing, one where his eyes are trained directly and obviously at Louis, his smile the brightest it’s ever been. _I need to stop looking at Louis like I’d rob all the stars in the sky for him_ Harry thinks, pointedly ignoring the fact that he would in fact rob all the stars in the sky for Louis. 

“God, they sure are invested, aren’t they?” Louis comments, though it’s not one of malicious nature. It’s spirited, happy, content. Harry hums in agreement as he scrolls through a few more.

“Hang on, wait,” Louis interjects, his hand brushing Harry’s to push his fingers from the tracking pad. Harry watches him scroll back up a few tweets before finding the one he spotted. 

“Hey followers,” Louis reads out. “I just uploaded an edited version of my Larry Stylinson…fan fiction?”

Harry knows what fan fiction is, barely, and he’s vaguely sure Louis knows too. They’re both aware it exists, and they are certainly aware there are pieces written about the two of them. But Harry couldn’t dare to click on a single piece of it out of fear a part of him would surface, a part of him that he attempts to bury from time to time. A fear he isn’t quite ready to face yet, not without being sure Louis has the same idea.

“Mate, we have to read it,” Louis is laughing though Harry notes it sounds half-forced.

“No way, Lou.” He’s smiling when he says it.

“C’mon!” Louis presses. “Aren’t you at least a bit interested? Honestly, what goes on in these kid’s brains?”

Harry snorts and Louis giggles, his face so close that if Harry moved an inch or two closer their cheeks would press intently together. 

Harry doesn’t have much of a say in the matter anyway as Louis is already clicking the link attached to the tweet, a new tab opening to display the words the pair are anticipating. The screen loads to show the title – some artsy song lyrics, Harry assumes – and Louis scrolls down to skim through the first paragraph.

 _“Harry is nervous for the show,”_ Louis reads, quickly. _“He is pacing the dressing room. The very thought of— “_

“Hey,” Harry interrupts, pouting. “Why am I the nervous one? Where are you guys?”

Louis fakes annoyance, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know, Harold, I didn’t write the story.”

“If they’re going to write about us they could at least be accurate.”

Choosing to ignore him, Louis continues reading the fic aloud. Harry personally finds the first two paragraphs dull, dragged out and far too detailed on Harry’s ‘nerves’. Or perhaps he’s bitter. But that’s nobody’s business. It’s only when Louis is introduced, he begins to tune in.

“I’m assuming we’re in a relationship, look how many times I call you ‘babe’,” Louis is stifling a laugh as he says it, skipping a few paragraphs to prove his point. Harry wants to bring up the fact that Louis calls him ‘babe’ in real life too, but he bites his tongue. Louis keeps reading.

_“Louis’ company seems to distract Harry. They’ve got around 15 minutes until they’re on stage, and before he can stop it, Louis has an idea. He knows a way to distract Harry right up until showtime.”_

Harry wants to make a comment that the sentences were hardly grammatically correct but he likes the sound of Louis saying ‘Harry’ so, he doesn’t interrupt him. He giggles when Louis puts an ironic emphasis on babe.

 _“’Hey **babe** , I have an idea,’ Louis says as he makes his way across the room to comfort his boyfriend. Harry remains a little confused but he accepts the other boy delightfully as he cups his cheek, bringing him in for a kiss,”_ Louis nudges Harry as he reads this part. Harry only snickers but he feels heat in his cheeks.

 _“’Louis’ tongue swipes over Harry’s bottom lip, asking for an entrance that Harry gladly provides. The screams and cheers of the crowd outside are slowly fading away and his thoughts are clouded with Louis. He brings a hand up to Harry’s cheek to deepen the kiss and Harry moans into his_ —oh,” Louis stops himself as his eyes flick over the next few lines.

Harry feels a bit funny when he realises what this tale was leading to and it dawns on him that perhaps, they should’ve read the tags.

“Christ, our fans really write this stuff, huh?” Louis smiles, eyes glued to the screen.

“Yeah. They write some saucy literature.” Harry pretends he’s focused on the screen and not on Louis’ lips. Louis just snorts at the ‘saucy literature’ comment. In any normal friendship, any normal scenario, this is where you’d call it a day. You gave it a go, you had a good chuckle, it’s time to go to sleep and steer clear of anything of the sort for the rest of your life. But Harry and Louis have never really worked like that.

“Keep reading,” he says, hand tightening on the seat of the couch. He’s hungry now. Louis only hesitates a little.

_“Harry moans into his mouth, his fingers latching on to the ends of Louis’ hair. Louis knows they don’t have all the time in the world, already making a start on the zipper of Harry’s jeans. He breaks apart only to kiss down Harry’s neck, careful not to leave marks. Louis is adoring the sounds that H-Harry is making.”_

Harry regrets his entire life as he starts to feel himself harden up, tension in the space of the room thick and both the boys are aware. This total situation makes Harry’s face hot, cheeks flushed and red. He’s aware that if Louis looked at him right now, he’d know. Louis always knows. He shifts, a lame attempt to cover his growing hard on. 

_“Louis’ hand creeps into…creeps into Harry’s pants, fingertips brushing his c-cock through the thin layer of fabric,”_ Louis gulps and Harry can’t breathe. _“Louis kisses Harry harder, biting and tugging his lips desperately. His dick twitches at the sound of Harry’s heavy moan.”_

Harry’s fingernails are clawing at the couch. The imagery is so vivid in his head, he can’t take it. He’s breathing through his mouth, he knows he’s being obvious. Louis takes his bottom lip between his teeth and Harry’s eyes are glued to the movement.

“Wow,” Louis breathes, a forced huff of a laugh trying to clear the tension. “Intense stuff.”

He’s so aware of their elbows lightly touching, so aware of Louis’ presence beside him. Louis leans back to feign nonchalance but it’s transparent to Harry. Louis bravely turns his head, meeting Harry’s eyes.

“I think we know where the story’s going.” His voice is thick.

Harry wants to die. He’s sitting next to his best friend and his dick is kind of hard and he wants to die. Louis has stopped reading to Harry’s relief and disappointment but now they’re just sitting in silence. Louis is restless and tapping his upper thigh, Harry completely still and petrified of moving out of fear his boner would be exposed. He feels like he should say something before it gets too awkward – maybe a joke, or a jab at the story, or a plea for Louis to make out with him. Harry doesn’t know. He’s too scared to even look Louis’ way and continues to will his boner away but nothing is fucking working.

“You ‘right, Haz?” Louis’ voice comes out of nowhere, slicing the one minute of silence they were sitting in. Harry assumed Louis must be thinking he’s mad at him, or something.

“Yes,” Harry says, voice broken. “I’m good.”

And then;

“What if we kissed?”

Harry’s heart physically stops – he swears he fucking feels it stop – and takes a second to process what Louis just asked. Kiss? As in, each other? Kiss each other? He wants to shout yes, wants to splay out for him then and there. He wants to bite and lick every bit of Louis Tomlinson he can get his hands on. 

Instead, he asks; “Why would we do that?”

“Well,” Louis is quiet, going all sheepish. “I’ve never kissed my mate before. Don’t think it would go down well in Donny, but it seems to be going great in that...fan story.”  
_Silence._

“You’re curious to kiss a guy because of a fan fiction?” Harry wants to laugh.

“I just haven’t done it before, s’wanna know if it’s any better’n snogging a girl,” Louis explains, going all embarrassed and shy again. Harry knows, of course, that Louis isn’t just curious. That there’s more to his reasoning, a feeling that Louis keeps private and unexposed. Harry knows. For once, he knows.

“Have you?” Louis asks. “Kissed a bloke, I mean.”

Harry shrugs. “Yeah. Few times. I liked it.”

Louis is silent again and Harry feels weird. He’s more experienced in the guy area, having kissed one or two of his friends back home, but he still feels like the inept one in this department. He wants Louis to say something. Anything. There’s something coursing through his blood now, something Louis enkindled within him. This feels like a chance. An opportunity, a huge risk that comes rarely. And if Louis won’t be the one to make the next move, so be it. 

His mind is foggy when he advances from his sitting position, shuffling closer to Louis on the couch. Louis pretends he doesn’t notice.

“Kissing a guy isn’t very different,” Harry starts, acting like he actually knows what the fuck he’s saying. “It’s sort of intense, sometimes. Lips can be rougher and the need is more…energetic.”

Louis swallows. His hands want to reach out and touch Harry, are itching to. Harry moves in closer, body pressed up against Louis’ own.

“Somehow it feels mad and rebellious which is appealing, I guess.” Harry keeps talking. Feeling adventurous, he brushes his fingertips down Louis’ arm, tracing the crevice of his elbow and the lines of his veins. Louis is tense.

Harry next speaks in a whisper, leaning into Louis’ ear.

“D’you wanna kiss me, Lou?”

The beginnings of arousal start to bubble in Harry’s veins when Louis’ eyes meet his. There’s something there – something in the blue, a hint of want. Harry has the strongest urge to show Louis how good he can be. He wants to be good for Louis.

“Because y’know, we can,” he breathes. “If that’s what you want.”

He feels it when Louis snaps, knows he reached his limit of angsty decision making on whether or not kissing his best mate was a good idea. He knows because suddenly Harry feels fingertips pressing into his hips, pulling him towards Louis’ lap. “C’mere,” Louis mutters.

Harry straddles his thighs almost automatically. He spares a second to flick his eyes down to the outline of Louis’ cock through his sweats before making eye contact once again. Harry is on fire, Louis’ fingertips digging into the fabric of his sweatpants, igniting him. The older boys’ eyes flick to his lips and Harry makes a show of swiping his bottom lip, prettying them up for Louis. He swallows.

“I don’t know what you’re doing to me,” Louis says.

“Please kiss me,” Harry answers.

And before either of the two know what’s going on, they’re kissing. Louis leaned in and Harry watched his eyes flutter close before he followed, relishing in the feeling once their lips touched. His mouth is warm, wet and so fucking good. Harry can’t imagine parting with it, doesn’t want to.  
Kissing Louis feels like a dream. It feels like his favourite feeling in the world, his safest and most familiar home. Any consequence or angsty fear dissipates from Harry’s mind as he is consumed by Louis, Louis, Louis. Nothing matters because he is kissing him.

Louis’ hands are gradual in their movement to Harry’s face, cupping his cheek lightly. It lasts a second more before they pull away. They stay still for a moment or two and Harry begins to fear that that was it. They wouldn’t go further than a quick kiss and that was all it was going to be forever. But Louis’ hand is still on Harry’s cheek and his eyes are still filled with something that Harry can’t name and he quite really would like to kiss Louis again.

He does. He moves in to kiss Louis harder this time, causing an unexpected squeak to bubble from Louis’ throat. But he’s just as responsive, the hand on Harry’s cheek pressing harder. He opens his mouth for Louis who takes it instantly, tasting everything about him. Louis tastes like minty hints of toothpaste and the sweetest of strawberries and Harry is going to lose his mind. Harry wants to give everything in the world and more to him. He kisses Louis as hard as he can, wants to show him what he can do, how fucking good he can be. He pulls apart to lick Louis’ bottom lip, a strike up like a kitten lapping at a bowl of milk.

“Holy shit,” Louis whimpers. “Harry, you’re—God, you’re so…pretty.”

Harry wants to cry. That’s all Louis manages to say before he’s leaning in again. Harry feels Louis’ other hand ease up his arm, tracing circles in the pale skin of his bicep as he licks into his mouth. They lose themselves in their kiss, just snogging for awhile, drawing patterns in each other’s skin. Harry’s heart skips a beat every time Louis makes a noise. He shifts in Louis’ lap then, his cock brushing against Louis’ upper thigh. A whimper leaves his mouth at the sudden jolt of pleasure it gives him, shifting his position so he can grind on his cock. He’s still kissing Louis hard when he rolls his hips down, meeting his crotch. A moan tears from the older boy’s throat and they pull apart, watching Harry’s hips press into Louis’.

“Fuck,” Louis curses. It’s hot, the way their dicks grind amidst the fabric of their sweatpants. His cock was straining for relief, and was finding it, over and over as Louis dragged their cocks blissfully together. They’re both watching intently, pressed up against each other, moving rhythmically to the sound of their heartbeats. It sends shockwaves down Harry’s body. He briefly wonders if Louis will back out anytime soon, terrified at the thought of him freaking out and running away. However, Louis looks anything but regretful right now, hunger evident in his eyes. He wants this just as much as Harry. The thought makes him groan, leaning in to take apart Louis’ mouth again.

Amidst their making out, Harry feels a fingertip trace the edge of his T-shirt. 

“Can I take it off?” Louis asks, voice scratchy. _Yes, yes, yes. God yes._

“Okay,” Harry says.

He lifts his arms up, staring towards the ceiling, touching the sky. His shirt comes off. Louis leaves a trail of goosebumps as he goes. The older boy stares for a moment, taking in the milky skin of Harry’s glistening chest. He’s seen him exposed, of course, countless times before. But never like this. Never like this, where he’s allowed to touch. Allowed to take. Allowed.

Harry watches Louis’ lips come in contact with his neck. Warm hands run up and down his waist, pinching his small love handles lovingly, then coming back up to thumb circles into his ribs. Harry gasps when Louis’ teeth nibble under Harry’s jaw.

“Y’like it there, babe?”

“Please,” he whimpers. “Harder.”

Louis complies, sucking a love bite at the beautiful spot. This is so intimate and glorious. So unreal. Harry almost doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to get his hopes up in case it’s just some phenomenal dream. Louis licks the bruise after and kisses it a few times for good measure. He pulls back.

“You’re already better than any girl I’ve ever done this with,” he begins. His voice is shaky and Harry isn’t sure if it’s arousal or nerves. “Is that weird?”

Harry shakes his head no. “If it was weird it wouldn’t feel this good.”

Louis seems to agree, a grin gracing his features before bringing Harry’s head down in a loving kiss. Loving. Harry’s fingers trace through Louis’ hair once again, tugging the ends harshly, causing a beautiful whimper to leave his mouth. Harry wants to hear that sound again. He wants Louis to be loud, he wants to take Louis apart. Make him unable to do anything but moan Harry’s name. It’s this notion that makes Harry even hungrier. He lets his hand trail down, down, down to the waistband of Louis’ sweats, hoping the fingertip that traces Louis’ skin burns into him. A sharp gasp escapes Louis’ mouth and Harry eats it up, sinking one or two fingertips past his waistband.

“Is this okay?” Harry breathes. Louis just nods, pushing his hips up quickly and slightly, seemingly not even consciously. Harry reminds himself to breathe as he grinds down harder. He wants to slow down and drown in this moment – he swears – but it’s like his body is on autopilot as he licks down his neck, clutching the older boy as hard as he can. This heat that Louis gives him is far too addicting to waste or even think about. He just needs him.

“Look at you,” Louis says after Harry throws his head back, relishing in the feeling of him. “Want it so bad, huh?”

Harry whines and Louis dives in, baring his teeth to the pale of Harry’s neck. He sucks a hickey (giving little thought to the spots a shirt could cover up) and caresses the lower half of his back. How he could ever feel this good is beyond him.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” Louis says, lips trailing up to his ear. The heat and skin between them is almost too much to bare. Harry responds in a broken whisper, “So…Fuck—s-so bad.”

Harry breaks apart when Louis gently takes his hand in his. They both watch the way his thumb caresses the red of his knuckles before he’s moving Harry’s hand, guiding him to the swell of his bulge. Harry breathes in sharply. He realises, in this moment, he would literally do anything Louis says. He wants Louis to own him, claim him. The hickeys on his neck burn at the thought.

Louis, with his hand atop of Harry’s, feels the pressure of dainty fingers ghosting over his clothed cock. Harry takes it upon himself to press down, unable to contain himself. A deep groan escapes Louis’ mouth as Harry palms his dick covered by his sweats, pressing and rubbing and—fuck, Louis loves this.

He’s bucking up into Harry’s hand, groaning when he sees the look on Harry’s face. Harry feels dizzy and the sight of Louis falling apart underneath him makes his mouth water. Louis is big – he can feel him underneath his palm. He’s big and warm and Harry wants to put his mouth all over him. With careful fingers, he trails his hand along the waistband of the older boy’s sweats. Louis’ breath hitches and Harry can’t help himself when he dives in to kiss his neck, so overwhelmed by his feelings for this boy. He tugs hard at his waistband, whining when he realises he has to get off Louis’ lap in order to get his pants off.

As Harry rolls to the side with a huff, thighs and body pressing into his side, Louis wastes no time in pulling off his sweats. He sighs in relief as his cock springs free and Harry feels his face get very hot. His swollen dick is thick and curved and gorgeous. God, Louis is so sexy. He is pure gold – a rarity that you are beyond lucky to find, so beautiful and unreal and able to fit perfectly with anything life has ever thrown at him. Harry has never experienced such a rush of emotion, never before he met Louis. 

Louis’ eyes seem to be traced on the pink of Harry’s lips and his mouth is parted, breathing heavily. He looks delicious.

“C’mon,” he rasps out. “Show me yours.”

Harry doesn’t miss the spark that crackles through his spine at the words, at the tone, as he stands up quickly to pull his pants down. His flushed dick slaps against the milky white paleness of his stomach, big and pretty. His back is to Louis for only a second but the older boy wastes no time in appreciating everything Harry gives him.

“Look at that bum of yours,” Louis voice is honey. “So pretty.”

Harry can’t even handle it, having to sit down before he collapses with the weight of Louis’ words. It’s too much, it’s too good. Louis is stroking himself lazily and Harry realises it’s to him, for him. He matches Louis’ actions as a reward.

Their eyes are trained on each other. Harry soaks in his pattern, the way Louis speeds up then slows down and squeezes his base and flicks his head. Harry does his best to mimic him. He’s always a second behind, squeezing the base of his cock when Louis does and speeding up or slowing down, just like him. They can’t break the eye contact between them, they can’t break this moment they finally have. It’s not even a minute after they’ve started jacking off and Louis is already reaching beside him, placing his hand over Harry’s, halting his movements to a stop. Louis’ hand is warm.

“Let me just… I wanna—can I?” Louis nudges his head to Harry’s dick where it lays hard and heavy in both of their hands. 

_Yes. Please. Do whatever you want to me,_ Harry is thinking.

Instead he just nods, eager, and let’s go of himself. Harry can barely calculate it when Louis is spitting into his palm and reaching down, wrapping a warm hand around the base of his dick. He sees it but he doesn’t believe it. His throat feels like it’s caught in a net and he can barely make out what he wants to say. He needs to get it out before his thoughts are just completely consumed by Louis and Louis’ hand.

Almost robotically reaching for Louis’ cock, Harry says, “C-Can I? Touch, I mean. Wanna return the favour.”

“Please,” Louis whimpers, head falling back against the couch. His eyes are closed, a sheen of sweat starting to decorate his forehead. Harry thinks he looks like an angel.

“Y’look so good,” Harry tells him before he has a chance to think about it. He decides that now isn’t a time for thinking or holding back, not when Louis has a hand on his dick. Not when Harry knows he can bare his soul to him.

Copying his actions, he strokes Louis’ length, not missing the tiny gasp he lets out at each squeeze. When Louis opens his eyes to stare back at Harry, Harry can only bite his lip to stop himself from letting out an embarrassing moan. Louis is just too damn hot.

“Can’t believe I’m seeing you like this,” Louis is moaning. “Looking so good – this good – for me. So... fuck, so hot.”

Louis emphasises his point with a tight squeeze and Harry whines, hips bucking up. He will finish embarrassingly quickly if Louis keeps this up. It’s his words, the way every sound that leaves his mouth crawls under Harry’s skin. It gets to him and he knows it. Louis can talk his way in and out of anything when it comes to Harry. He builds Harry up and brings him down and he’s so fucking skilled at it. Harry resists the urge to sink his teeth into Louis’ shoulder as he speeds up the pace of his hand movements. The back of Harry’s head is damp and he can see the ends of Louis’ hair curled upwards. Both boys are close – so gorgeously, wonderfully close – and Harry really needs Louis to know how much he feels for him.

Harry barely manages to say, “C’mere.” His voice is dripping with want.

Louis obliges, moving in close, face to face, before pushing his lips to Harry’s. It’s wet immediately, both desperate now. Harry is whining and tugging and biting and licking at Louis’ lips and all the elder boy can manage to do is moan and give him as much back. So sloppy and messy and Harry can feel the pit of his stomach coil with heat. He pulls apart, breathing heavily.

“Louis, I’m gonna—“

“Yeah, fuck, me too,” he pants. “Do it, let go. Wanna see it.”

Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever admit it, too embarrassed to come around to it, but it was definitely Louis’ words that sent him over the edge. It burst throughout him, quick and delightful. He choked when Louis followed suit, Harry’s name on his lips. A sound he wants to hear forever. Doesn’t know how he lived without hearing it before.

They clean up using Harry’s shirt (Harry was rather fond of that tee but he supposes he’ll live) and lie down on the limited space they have on the couch. Harry pulls a blanket over the both of them and smiles as Louis snakes a hand around his waist, drowning him in warmth. He likes being the little spoon, he decides.

He thinks, as he feels the beginnings of sleep wash over him, that he should feel anxious right now – regretful. But when Louis is pressed up against him and Harry can feel his smile on his neck he only feels love. He’s content. Content and warm. For now, he feels loose and hollow. Any worries have been scooped out of him. He feels like home.

And if he drifts off that night to the sound of Louis’ heartbeat, no one has to know.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading <3 means da world  
> leave some kudos!!


End file.
